A Song in Winter
by LyonessaStark
Summary: She fled to the Reach for safety after her father's murder. He took her in and married her. And now they shall watch as winter comes, and choose their side in the fight for the Iron Throne.
1. Chapter 1

The wait for her father to come home had never been longer, Lady Kristine of House Daaelyn, a house subservient to House Stark in the North, thought. He had left with her betrothed, Lord Erik of House Destlywne, to attend the wedding of Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey, along with King Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, his mother, and his wife, Queen Talisa, who was expecting.

The wedding should be over by now, she thought. Septa Thorel came up behind her. ''The Lord is still not home yet, Lady Daaelyn?''

''No, Septa. I don't feel safe when my lord father is not home. Now that Lord Stark is dead, Lady Sansa is at King's Landing, King Robb and Queen Talisa, along with Lady Catelyn, are at the wedding, and Lady Arya and Lord Bran are nowhere to be found, I am always worried, I suppose.''

''You must not fear, Lady Daaelyn. They will come home.'' the older woman said kindly. ''Why, look! Is that not a horse coming now?'' she gestured out the window. Kristine shot up, and peered out the window herself.

''It is a horse, alright, but it is not Father's. Or Erik's. Erik does not like to ride, and I would know Father's steed anywhere.'' Kristine explained to the Septa. The Septa nodded in agreement.

''Yes, that's true.''

''I shall go see who it is.'' Kristine stood up, and hurried down the stairs to the outside, throwing her furred greatcloak over her. When the horseman pulled up in front of her, she saw that she had been right. It was neither her father nor her betrothed. Instead, it was a messenger.

''Lady Daaelyn, I regret to inform you that the Lord Daalyn your father has been killed at the wedding of Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey, along with our king Robb Stark, his mother Lady Catelyn Stark, and his wife Queen Talisa.'' The messenger informed her. Kristine gasped, hands flying to her mouth. No, it couldn't be. It couldn't! But what of Erik? Had he survived? She put the question to the messenger, and received this answer in return: ''Lord Destlywne was killed as well, found horribly mutilated amongst the corpses.'' And upon hearing that, Kristine fainted dead away.

When she awoke, she was in her bed, Septa Thorel sponging her face with a soft cloth, and the messenger standing to the side of the bed, holding her fur cloak. ''I'm terribly sorry, Lady Daaelyn. Everyone else was killed as well, except the bride and groom. It was done by the Freys so they could have revenge against King Robb.''

''Thank you.'' Septa Thorel nodded, and stood up from Kristine's bedside. ''You may go now.'' The messenger nodded, handed Septa Thorel Kristine's cloak, and left the room. ''Are you feeling better, Lady Daaelyn?'' she turned back to Kristine.

''Both of them dead. My father and Erik, dead.'' she gave a little sob. ''It's too much to think of.'' Septa Thorel hurried to get a letter written, and Kristine asked who it was for.

''It is to your cousin in The Reach, Lady Daaelyn. Do you not remember him?'' Septa Thorel said to her.

''Oh, yes. Now I remember. I only met him once, and he seemed very kind. Lord Raoul Conwyn of Rosewell, am I not correct?'' Kristine asked, and was rewarded with a nod from Septa Thorel.

''Yes. He has a bastard sister, Masline Flowers, aged fifteen winters.''

''I do not ever remember meeting her. Mayhaps it was because I was all of two winters that year, and he was just past his nineteenth nameday. Sixteen years can be a long time.'' Kristine said. She could just barely remember what her cousin looked like. The Conwyns, a house subordinate to the Tyrells, had settled in The Reach back when the Targaryens had the throne, and were a golden-haired, blue-eyed lot.

''And there is another matter.'' said Septa Thorel. Kristine slid out of bed, and wandered over to Septa Thorel's side. ''What is that?'' Kristine questioned, albeit a tiny bit worried now. Leaning over her Septa's shoulder, she peered at who it was addressed to. She could see the beginnings of a ''Qu'' and below that, the single word "King's.'' King's. Which place in Westeros started with-oh, gods. Oh no. No. ''Must I swear allegiance to the mad boy-king who ordered the killing of good Lord Stark?'' she exclaimed, and Septa Thorel let her cry into her lap.

''You must, Lady Daaelyn. Or they will think you a traitor and throw you in the dungeon. Or worse. And as of now, you are the heir to House Daaelyn, and you must marry soon, or you will become a Bolton bride, for all you know. That's why I've written to your cousin. He will find a match for you.'' Septa Thorel explained, and Kristine raised her head, smiling gratefully.

Standing up, Kristine said, ''I suppose I must get ready if I am to pay allegiance to the royal family. I will have to wear Lannister clothing, of course. Septa Thorel, will you help me, and break the news to my brother?''

**XxX**

Masline Flowers was no stranger to receiving letters. But the person who had sent this letter came from the North, and that was a place her brother had never received letters from before.

''Brother!'' she called out, heading into his study, where he usually was. ''Brother?'' She stopped in front of him, and he stood up from his chair.

''Another letter, Masline?''

Lord Raoul Conwyn of House Conwyn of Rosewell was a kind, yet strong man, and the scar across his temple was evidence that he'd fought in Robert's Rebellion.

''Yes, brother. It's from the North.'' Masline handed him the letter, and he opened it quickly, muttering ''We have family in the North. Mayhaps this is from them.''

He read it through once, and turned white. ''Brother, what is it? What's happened?'' Masline asked, stepping forward. When her brother looked up from the letter, his face was grim.

''Our uncle's been killed, leaving our two cousins orphaned, and Lady Kristine's betrothed has been killed as well, at the wedding of Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey.''

''Raoul, how terrible. And our poor cousin! She must be heartbroken, losing both her father and her betrothed. Could she please stay with us?'' Masline asked. It would be so wonderful to have her cousin at Rosewell!

''The letter requests that I take our cousin into my household at once, after she finishes paying her allegiance to the King. Then she will come here to Rosewell. Her brother Gustave is to stay with Septa Thorel, the person who sends me this letter, until arrangements can be made for him to come to Rosewell.'' Raoul replied, and Masline turned around in giddy delight. _Oh, how wonderful!_ she thought to herself.

''I will have the maids prepare the room for her instantly.'' she promised, before running out of the room and shrieking in delight.

At the dinner table that night, all Masline could talk about was their cousin's arrival, while her brother simply listened intently.

''Masline, you shall wear your tongue out if you keep talking about Lady Daaelyn. Do eat your dinner.'' he finally scolded, and Masline returned to eating her roasted boar. After she finished, she then exclaimed ''What do you suppose she's wearing, Raoul? What do the Northern girls wear? I should think something with long sleeves, as it's cold in the North, and what of the fabric? Would silk be too cold, or does she wear lambswool?''

''Masline, I wouldn't know one bit about the fashion in the North. You will have to wait till she arrives. She'll most likely be wearing mourning, I suppose she'll most likely be wearing mourning, of course.''

**XxX**

The dress that Kristine was to wear for her audience with King Joffrey Baratheon was of white samite with a neckline cut to show her shoulders and long, full skirts,, the sleeves long and wide with a lining of silk. The slippers on her feet were white doeskin, and her deep brown tresses were worn in a fan shaped braid with long braids over her shoulders, in the Lannister style. The whole dress was a Lannister style, and it was one that Kristine hated.

''Now, remember'', Septa Thorel said, ''Do not do anything to make yourself a traitor in some way.'' Kristine nodded. Of course. She would not wish to have her head taken off! She bid a sad good-bye to Septa Thorel, who had been like a mother to her ever since her own mother died, and her little brother, who at his seventh winter was too young to understand what was going on.

'''Will you be gone long?'' Gustave asked.

''Not that long, dear brother. And you'll join me in Rosewell as soon as possible.'' Kristine promised. It was then that she stepped away, and climbed on her horse, waving good-bye to those she held dear in her heart. When she arrived at King's Landing with her escort,, she had her trunks sent on ahead to Rosewell, and prepared to meet the king who had good Lord Stark killed.

Her name was announced, and she stepped in, holding her head high. _I am Lady Kristine of House Daaelyn in the North,_ she thought. _The daughter of Lord Gustave Daaelyn and Lady Darlyne Conwyn. I must not cry, and I must not doom myself._ She knelt as befitted a supplicant to the throne, and the king, a boy-king, Joffrey Baratheon, spoke.

''And, pray tell, why have you come to us, Lady Daaelyn?'' For such a young boy, his voice was harsh and cruel.

''To beg forgiveness for the deeds of my lord father. I knew nothing of his traitorous plans, and I would wish to not know anything of them.'' She had practiced what she would say for days.

The king nodded in thought, and said, ''Do continue, Lady Daaelyn.'' There was no sign nor hint of warmth in his voice, not one, and Kristine wondered if his mother was the same. Quite possibly, as it was said that Joffrey was his mother's favorite child.

''I can assure you, Your Majesty, that I am completely and utterly loyal to you, the true king, not the false king Robb Stark.'' Oh, how Kristine hated to say these words, and hated herself for saying them! Yet, they pleased the king, for a smile grew on his face, a cruel one, and he gave her a royal pardon, and permission to leave. She thanked him, telling him what a gracious and good king he was, and stood up and left, her mind relieved for a while. You never knew if the king would change his mind, of course.

She climbed upon the horse brought her, and rode off with her escort in the direction of Rosewell.

Masline was delighted at the prospect of seeing her cousin, who was at least three winters older then her, and when she saw her cousin's trunks arrive, she let forth a squeal of delight.

''Well, since her trunks are here, that means she'll be arriving soon.'' her brother said, coming up to her.

''I cannot wait to meet her! Did you meet her, brother? What was she like?'' Masline asked curiously. ''Do tell me.''

''I met her once when she was a child and you were not born yet. She was a small, delicate thing, but she withstood the cold of the north. She was lovely, too, with soft brown curls and brown-hazel eyes, traits of the Daaelyns. Kristine seemed quite intelligent for her age, and I feel certain that she's become a beautiful young woman, as lovely as you, Masline.''

Masline sighed happily. ''She sounds lovely, brother.'' She glanced at him shyly. ''Do you think she will like me?''

''Of course she will. Who wouldn't like you?'' Raoul smiled at his sister.

**XxX**

Rosewell was beautiful, Kristine thought. All green and flowering, not cold and dark like the North. She could certainly like it here, she was sure of it. Her escort, Ser Aloys Cerrin, dismounted his horse, and helped Kristine dismount hers, making sure her black wool skirts did not get caught in the saddle. She wore mourning now, all black with long wide sleeves and a long gauzy veil over her hair. Kristine despised black, even though it was one of the colors of House Daaelyn, along with a pale green. It made her complexion too pale, and was most unbecoming to her hair and eyes.

''Thank you, Ser. You may return to Septa Thorel and tell her I've made it safely.'' Ser Alys nodded, remounted his horse, and rode off. One of the servants greeted her, having been informed of her arrival, and escorted her into the Great Hall, where her cousins waited for her.

''Oh, I'm so excited!'' Masline exclaimed, dancing around the Great Hall, while Raoul tried to restrain her. 'Oh, I hear her, she's coming, she's coming!''

''Masline Flowers, behave properly!'' Raoul scolded, and Masline stood still. She watched as a young woman stepped into the Great Hall, escorted by a servant. It was true; she was beautiful. Her brown ringlets of hair were pulled back in a thick braided bun, and her eyes were deep and brown. Her dress was mourning; black lambswool cut simply and plainly, with a silvered belt and long, wide, dagged sleeves.

''Lady Daaelyn, welcome to Rosewell.'' Masline stepped forward in greeting.

Kristine looked up, and smiled at the friendly greeting. This must be Masline Flowers, her bastard cousin. Masline was certainly pretty, anyway. She had golden hair and blue eyes, her hair swept back on the sides and front, falling down her back, and her eyes were kind. Her dress was of white silk, with an overlayer of green silk in a vest-style on the bodice, embroidered in flowers, and the hem of the skirt was embroidered in flowers too.

''I am pleased to be here, cousin. Lord Conwyn, greetings.'' she nodded with her head at Masline's brother, stepping over to greet him. He hadn't changed since she'd last seen him, although her memories of him were foggy. He did seem taller, though, more broad-shouldered, his hair pulled back loosely with a leather tie and his eyes as blue as the sea of the harbor in King's Landing.

Gods, she was staring. He was merely her cousin, and also very handsome, as well. That was why she was staring, she thought.

''We're happy to have you here, dear cousin. You've grown. You were merely a child when last I saw you, and look how you've grown. You're such a lovely young woman now.'' Raoul greeted Lady Kristine, who, for some reason, blushed at his words. Perhaps the Lady Kristine was merely modest. He could not imagine her being anything less. ''I'm terribly sorry for your loss. Our uncle was a good man.'' Raoul added, and Lady Kristine smiled sadly.

''Thank you, cousin.''

Masline cheerfully looped her arm through her cousin's, and tugged her away to show her her room. When Masline threw open the doors, Kristine smiled, a soft ''Thank you'' forming on her lips.

''It's lovely.'' Kristine said softly. ''I will do my best to enjoy my stay here.''

''Will you join us for dinner?'' Masline asked, not wanting to push her cousin into something she didn't want.

''Yes. I shall.'' Kristine replied, and Masline closed the doors behind her, leaving Kristine to become accustomed to her new surroundings. They were beautiful, she thought. And there was so much light shining through the windows, unlike Icesong. It was so cold there, although she had hardly noticed it, and here was so warm. There was no need for lambswool here, of course. Two to three weeks would be sufficient for her mourning period, and then she could put her black dresses aside.

Her trunks had been delivered, and Kristine went over to open one of them, unlocking it with the key she wore around her neck. Then she took off the veil she wore, and placed it in the trunk, closing the lid and locking it.

The bed was carved of wood, draped with brocade and silken coverlets, and goose feather-stuffed pillows, and the room itself was large and spacious. It reminded her of her room at Icesong.

**XxX**

That night, Masline wore a plain dress of white silk with sleeves of white Myrish lace, sewn in baby pearls, so her cousin, is her black mourning, would not be outshone. Her brother wore a doublet of black mourning silk, slashed with Conwyn purple, and a chain of gold starflowers across his shoulders, his hair falling around his shoulders.

There were many dishes of food, and Kristine wondered out loud if she would be able to stomach all the food placed in front of her.

''You do not have to eat everything, Lady Kristine. Besides, whatever we do not eat goes to the servants.'' Raoul assured her, and Kristine helped herself to a portion of potatoes.

''Your hair is so pretty, dear cousin.'' Masline said admiringly, reaching out and touchhing the thick plait of hair over Kristine's shoulder.

''Thank you, Masline.''

Once they had finished eating, Masline showed off her skills on the harp, and Kristine told her that once she had finished mourning, she would be delighted to sing with her. And then it was off to bed, and Kristine had pleasant dreams that night, wondering what the future would bring.

* * *

**Some of Christine and Meg's outfits are Got versions of their 1870's dresses. The King's Landing dress is Christine's wedding dress, and her mourning is her cemetery dress, while Meg's welcoming outfit is her Il Muto dress, and her dinner dress is her masquerade dress.**

**I've changed a few names around to better match the names of Game of Thrones. **

**Christine Daae: Lady Kristine Daaelyn.**

**Raoul de Chagny: Lord Raoul Conwyn.**

**Meg Giry: Masline Flowers.**

**Erik Destler: Lord Erik Destlywne.**

**Also, Raoul is 35, Christine is 18, and Meg is 15.**


	2. Chapter 2

It took two days for Kristine to become accustomed to living at Rosewell, as she had been born in the North, and so had to become accustomed to no more nights of long, cold winter, freezing air, and snow covering the ground.

Kristine liked her cousin Masline. She was a sweet girl, with a friendly smile, and very talkative. Such a pity she was a bastard.

Her other cousin was a different matter entirely. It wasn't that he didn't speak to her. It was that she didn't know how to talk to him without blushing furiously. Gods, what was wrong with her? He was merely her cousin. Could you feel such things for one so closely related to you? There were rumors about the Dowager Queen, and her brother the Kingslayer. The elders rarely spoke of them, but Kristine had heard, had convinced Septa Thorel to tell her, even though Septa Thorel had protested and said it was not fit for her ears.

And so she knew. But she did not speak of such things, even if she wished to.

Masline was a lovely girl, really, made even lovelier by her dresses of silk and samite, sewn with all sorts of embroidery, and she wore a chain from which hung a starflower pendant, the Conwyn emblem.

''It's too gentle. I often say that we should have a fiercer emblem in order to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies.'' Masline said once, as she and Kristine took a walk in the gardens.

''It's lovely, though. And your liege lords, the Tyrells, their emblem is a rose, is it not?'' Kristine replied, head cast slightly down to the side.

''Yes, that's true. How are you enjoying your stay here? I know it is too sudden to ask, but I want you to be comfortable here.'' Masline questioned, meeting her cousin's brown eyes.

Kristine smiled. ''I'm setting in nicely. You and your brother have been very kind to me.'' she said slowly. and plucked a soft pink rose from the bush, holding it in both her hands. She did not want to say the wrong thing! And perhaps the sudden flutters in her heart for her cousin were that of happiness for his kindness. Yes, that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

''What are you thinking, dear cousin?'' Masline asked, and then added as an afterthought, ''Shall I call you Kristine? If you do not mind, that is.''

''Of course I do not mind. Your name is very pretty, Masline.''

''Oh, thank you. My mother was a girl Father met at a tavern. Teri Safner, her name was. He was not allowed to marry her, but they slept together before his wedding-day, and I was born from that one night. Father, being an honorable man, took me and raised me himself. My actual mother passed away when I was five winters old.'' Masline explained, thinking Kristine might want to know how she had been born a bastard.

''That reminds me of Florian and Jonquil.'' Kristine commented, and Masline gasped in delight. ''That is one of my favorite romances in all Westeros!''

How wonderful, Kristine thought, that her cousin had read it, too!

Kristine clasped Masline's hands. ''I like all romances.'' Her father had indeed spent many nights reading them to her; Duncan and Jenny, Jonquil and Florian...She had loved all of them, and when she'd met Lord Erik Destlwyne, she had thought she had found her fairytale prince, too. But he had been brutally killed by those wicked Freys and Boltons.

As if reading her thoughts, Masline asked, ''Tell me of your betrothed. What was he like?"

''He loved me very much. Had he survived, and we married, I would have been Lady Kristine Destlwyne of Hyord. Erik was a quiet man, but a good one. Like my father, he was loyal to his King, Robb Stark. And I suppose that is what led to his demise.''

''Your betrothed sounds like a fine man. I wish I could have met him. I am sure my brother would have approved of him. Did he like riding?'' Masline asked.

''Erik was a terrible horseman. I usually beat him in races. When he wanted to race, that is. I love riding. What of you and Raoul?'' Kristine questioned. Masline shook her head. She was not too fond of riding herself. But her brother loved to ride. And that was what she told her cousin. Kristine laughed lightly, and said, ''Well, perhaps I ought to challenge him to a race.''

''I do not know if Raoul would accept. He has far too much to do, as Lord of Rosewell. Of course, when he has some free time, you could ask him.'' Masline suggested.

An ''Ask me what?'' came from behind them. Kristine and Masline turned to see Masline's brother behind them, and Kristine dropped into a quick curtsey.

''If you would like to go riding one day, Lord Conwyn. Masline said you would be busy most of the time.'' Kristine explained. She twisted the rose in her hands, feeling awkward.

''Well, I'm not busy now. I don't suppose you would mind? I haven't raced in years.'' Lord Conwyn remarked, implying he had heard the last bit of the conversation. Masline clapped her hands. ''Perfect! I'll be with my ladies, sewing.'' Masline then flounced off, leaving Kristine alone with Lord Conwyn. Not knowing what to say, she continued to twist the rose in her hands, as petals fell, and stared shyly down at her feet.

''I can well imagine that Rosewell is far more different than Icesong.'' Raoul said, standing before his cousin, as she shyly bent her head down. ''It has been many years since I've been there. Could you remind me of what it's like?'' Kristine nodded, and they continued to walk, and Kristine told him about Icesong. It was good to see a smile on his cousin's face, Raoul thought. She had suffered so much sadness in the past week. Far too much sadness.

Kristine looked up at her cousin.'' When was the last time you went to Icesong?''

''Your second nameday. While I was there, my father told me all about how he had seen his sister marry there. She had been a lovely bride, he remembered. Her maiden's cloak was of purple samite, sewn in pink starflowers, and the dress beneath was violet silk with dagged sleeves and long, full skirts trimmed in pink, our house colors. He said that Darlyne was one of the prettiest brides he had ever seen.'' her cousin said, and Kristine could only imagine it, a blonde, blue-eyed girl, of sixteen winters, in a gown and maiden's cloak of pink and purple, sewn in starflowers. And then when her father put the bridal cloak of Daalyn black and pale green, emblazoned with wyverns on her shoulders-she must have been the happiest girl in the world.

''My mother- do you think she liked riding?''

''I'm sure she did. According to my father, she used to race with him all the time. Speaking of racing, shall we go to the stable so I can show you the horses?'' Raoul asked, and Kristine nodded.

**XXX**

The horses were beautiful, Kristine thought, and said so. ''I've never seen horses like this.'' she said timidly, her hand running over a horse's flank.

''They're Dornish. The Dornish have the best horses you've ever ridden.'' Raoul stated proudly. Seeing his cousin's interest in a particular stormy black steed, he said to her, ''If you want, you can have that one.''

''Really, cousin? Thank you. I think I'll name him Ned, after Ned Stark.'' Kristine said, half to herself. Her father had admired Ned Stark greatly. Her cousin had a stableboy saddle the horse, while he climbed on his own, Viserys, a pure white stallion spotted with black. With the horses saddled, they rode off, the black sleeves of Kristine's ourning flying out, her hair braided back in the thick Northern style.

It was good to be riding again, Raoul thought. He gripped the reins of Viserys, urging him on, and glancing at his cousin, to see how she was faring. To his delight, she was smiling and laughing, perhaps remembering happier times. ''Don't fall behind!'' he called to her, and she laughed even more, pushing her horse into a gallop.

''I don't intend to!'' Their horses were truly racing now, and the braid of her hair flew behind Kristine as she rode. It was great fun to be racing horses again with someone, and by the time they stopped, both were breathless.

''We should do that more often.'' Kristine said, brushing stray curls of hair off her face. Raoul pulled Viserys to a halt in front of Ned, and replied, ''Yes, we should, but we ought to return to Rosewell before Masline rides out herself to find us.'' They rode back to the stable, Raoul dismounting his horse, and then helped Kristine down from her own horse.

''Oh, thank you.'' she replied, smoothing out her skirts, and dropping a quick curtsey. She turned, and went to the garden, where Masline and her ladies were, and picked up the sewing Masline had so thoughtfully fetched for her. ''How was your ride with my brother?'' Masline asked, and Kristine noted that she had changed her dress from her favored white silks to one of a bronze-colored sheer silk, with an intricately beaded bodice and flowing skirt, the neck cut low and square and her golden tresses were curled in loose ringlets, the sides twisted intricately in the back.

''It was pleasant.'' Kristine replied, smiling softly. She glanced down at her embroidery, and picked up her needle, giving a little sigh as she did so. She was attempting to sew the emblem of her house, a wyvern, half-finished. At least it did not look too bad. So she pieced the needle through the fabric, and began to craft the other wing.

If there was one thing Kristine greatly disliked about Masline's ladies, it was that they talked too much, and most of the talk was about men. The worst offender in this category was Lady Sabitha Oaklyle, a ward of her cousin's from the Riverlands. While she was fine to look upon, fair of face and blue-eyed and black-haired, she was far too flirtatious for Kristine's tastes.

Gods, how did Masline, sweet girl that she was, put up with her?

''Is he not handsome, Lady Daaelyn?'' Lady Janeth Carrin asked, leaning forward.

''Who?'' Kristine looked up from her embroidery. She had most certainly not been listening to what they had been talking about!

''Your cousin. Don't you think he's handsome? And unmarried, too. Such a prospective husband.''

''It's not for me to say, I'm afraid. He's a kind man, but I know very little of him, other than what Masline has told me.'' Kristine offered modestly.

Yet that did not seem to please Masline's ladies. Masline herself said nothing, but merely stared at her embroidery. And yet, Lady Janeth and Lady Sabitha insisted on asking stupid questions, such as how was her cousin at kissing and so on. She pleaded with her eyes in Masline's direction, who finally spoke up, saying, ''Now, now, girls. Leave my cousin alone. She cannot answer all your questions.''

Kristine mouthed a quiet ''Thank you'', and Masline nodded. So the girls sat that way, chatting and listening to the birds in the trees.

* * *

**Meg's bronze dress is her Hannibal dress in Game of Thrones style.**

**Lady Sabitha Oakyle: Sorelli, a character from the book.**

**Lady Janeth Carrin: Cecile Jammes, another character from the book.**


End file.
